


The Worst Class

by OverthinkingFeathers



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age II
Genre: Background Kanders, Background Karl Thekla, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9319286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverthinkingFeathers/pseuds/OverthinkingFeathers
Summary: Anders is volunteered to teach a healing class and watch over young apprentices at the same time. Everything goes poorly.





	

Anders had never thought his death would come at the hands of a bunch of bored apprentices, but he was quickly beginning to rethink that.

This wasn't supposed to be his class anyway. Technically, all newly Harrowed mages were supposed to spend two years teaching the younger apprentices, but his reputation as a troublemaker had more or less gotten him out of the duty. He still had to supervise the older apprentices for an hour four times a week, but that hardly counted. They had all worked out a pretty good deal of mutual ignorance.

This time though, he'd somehow gotten suckered into taking Surana's class for the day. She'd fallen ill with some mysterious, unhealable disease, she claimed, and couldn't possibly expose herself to the uninfected. She was lying through her teeth. Anders knew that the moment he came in the room, but he covered for her, summoned a compassion spirit to look confused, and pretended to not notice exactly how pitiful her fake cough was. She was lucky the Templars' helmets muffled their hearing. He was significantly less lucky, because they had volunteered him to take over her class for the day.

Even that should have been bearable. Healing wasn't a popular choice among apprentices, and the class was a measly four students, all between the ages of 13 and 17. They seemed the studious lot. He had no Maker given idea what he was doing - how do you teach healing when there's no one injured? - but he probably could have bluffed his way through.

He had managed to draw a vaguely ill looking person on the board when the news came through that the usual caretaker of the youngest apprentices had also become inexplicably, untreatably sick and had to be quarantined. Someone - possibly the Knight Captain who Anders _may_ have recently spread an unflattering rumor about - had decided that he should watch them too. In came six tiny mages. One tripped over his robe every third step. Another made a beeline for the bookcase and started touching every book. A third stood next to one of the older students and simply stared in mute fascination.

He's not sure what favor he's going to ask of Surana yet, but it's going to be big.

He's just managed to gather them all in a semi-circle at the front of the room and get them books, a task far harder than it should have been, when the littlest girl raises her hand. She doesn't wait to be called on.

"Did you really escape the Circle?"

It's not an uncommon question from newly arrived children. It's been years since he's tried, years since living with Karl made the Circle seem less like the Void, and still everyone talks about it. He wonders if she had even been born before the last attempt and decides he doesn't want to know. Less Void like didn't mean the voice in the back of his head demanding freedom had been silenced. It was just quieter most of the time. He thinks Karl has the same voice. He thinks they're both unwilling to risk the other, and he doesn't want to examine how that makes him feel.

"I don't really think the Templars want me to talk about that," he says, and that's true enough. Before anyone can protest, he says, "Why don't we practice the basic examination spell? Not every case that comes to the clinic is obvious, and it's important for you to be able to identify what's going on." He demonstrates the hand movement he always uses. It's not required, but it makes it easier for him. "You should feel it start in your chest and travel to your hands. Some patients can feel it but not all, and it shouldn't be unpleasant regardless. See if you can manifest the spell, and then once everyone's got that down, we'll pair up and practice on each other."

It's a simple spell, and all of the older apprentices probably already know it well. Surana is a competent healer and likely a good teacher. She's going to be back to full health by the next class, he's already decided, even if that means he has to put on a giant show of useless, flashy magic.

He's too busy deciding what spells will look most convincing to pay full attention to the children. The exercise is meant only for the teenagers, and the younger apprentices should be too tired from a morning full of classes to summon up mana anyway. Wielding magic takes practice, and without years of training, they shouldn't be able to conjure up more than a wisp.

Which is why, of course, one little boy manages a gout of flame. He yells triumphantly, angling the fire towards the floor, and Anders is completely unprepared. The boy's accomplishment is short lived - a minor stroke of luck, given that Anders doesn't know how to dispel magic - but it's long enough that the rug begins to burn. Four of the children begin to scream and run. The other two rush towards it. Anders panics and casts the first thing that comes to mind, a heavy surge of cold. Seconds later, more frost slams down on top of it, as at least three of the older apprentices do the same thing, until that section of the floor is lost under a thick layer of ice. One of the two children running towards it manages to take two steps on it before slipping. He falls backwards and, surprised, begins to wail.

No favor in Thedas, Anders decides, is worth all of this. He gathers up the sobbing child and checks him over, heals a mild scrape, and rocks him back and forth in an attempt to soothe his tears. The older apprentices, he notes with relief, have gathered up the remaining children and brought them back to the front of the room.

"All right," he says. "All right. I think we're done with magic for the day, ok? No more of that." Some of the little ones still have tear tracks down their faces. He flounders. "How about we all tell stories? Does that sound good?"

"Tell us about how you escaped!" It's the same girl from before. It's a bad idea, telling those stories, but her eyes are too large for her face, and he thinks he sees a spark of defiance in them. He might not escape the Circle, but maybe she will one day. The thought makes him hopeful.

He glances towards the door and beckons everyone closer. If the Templars didn't come in with all the screaming, they probably aren't going to hear anything, but he doesn't want to risk it. All of the students press close, suddenly reverent. The younger ones are probably just excited to do something they know they shouldn't; the older ones understand that tales of people who rebel in the Circle and live are rare. 

"When I first arrived at the Circle," he begins, "we went outside everyday."


End file.
